Classic Poem

Stond who so list upon the Slipper toppe
Of courtes estates, and lett me heare rejoyce;
And use me quyet without lett or stoppe,
Unknowen in courte, that hath suche brackish joyes.
In hidden place, so lett my dayes forthe passe,
That when my yeares be done, withouten noyse,

I may dye aged after the common trace.
For hym death greep'the right hard by the croppe
That is moche knowen of other, and of him self alas,
Doth dye unknowen, dazed with dreadfull face.